


Autumn Days That Make You Feel Sad

by queersuperteens (ruffboi)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Donna is too awesome to go out the way she did, Episode Fix-It: s04e13 Journey's End, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruffboi/pseuds/queersuperteens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things you have to sacrifice for the good of other people, but sometimes things will be okay no matter what.</p>
<p>Originally written and posted in 2008.  Written for the still_brilliant Donnathon. Nominated for a Children of Time award.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autumn Days That Make You Feel Sad

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this fic contains possible over-use of parentheticals and italics.

She can feel him in her mind, locking the doors to certain memories, trying to lock away any memory she has of him, and putting her into a deep sleep while doing it. She can see him doing in, and watches with detatched interest ( _it's almost as though she's watching someone else's life burn away, someone else's best mate say goodbye, and it makes her a little sad that she's so distant from it_ ) as he completely fails to do what he set out to. Shuffling memories around, trying to hide the dangerous ones behind the innocent ones.

It would be laughable if it weren't so heartbreaking.

She's vaguely aware of her body, the fact that he's cradling her, then setting her gently on something soft ( _the jumpseat, probably, and he's so tender when he brushes the hair out of her face_ ), and the sound of the TARDIS engines filters in.

He didn't change anything. He didn't erase anything, or lock anything away. Oh, if she'd had a human brain, or the brain of almost any other species in the universe, she would've well and truly forgotten him, but he hadn't taken into account the fact that while her body is still ( _plain, boring, mediocre, not-too-bright, but good with numbers, for a girl who never got her A-levels, and isn't that a plus?_ ) human, her mind isn't. She lets herself slip deeper into unconsciousness, buy her some time ( _the burning lessens the deeper she goes, it might go away altogether if she never comes out, but that isn't a viable option, now is it_ ) so he can get her home and leave her behind.

She doesn't blame him. Not really. It had terrified her and broken her heart to think of forgetting him, forgetting ( _brilliance, specialness, all the beauty and ugliness that the universe had to offer her, the strength she'd found in herself_ ) everything, but she understands.

He can't be responsible for yet another death. He can lose her, but he couldn't bear to see her die, not when it was his fault. It isn't, really, but she knows he'd blame himself anyway, and he would shatter if it happened again. Fragile, that's what he is, as much as he doesn't seem it.

So she sleeps, and waits. Eventually, she realizes that if she sleeps any longer, she might not wake up, and she struggles back to wakefulness. She's in her room, which seems so alien now, so unfamiliar ( _familiar is low humming and gold and teal and the faint hint of something sentient brushing her mind when she falls asleep at night_ ). But she has to pretend.

She always had been good at putting on a face for everyone, smiling and bubbly and helpful when she was broken and tired and lonely. She should be able to do it again, put on the face of shallow, plain, boring Donna Noble, gabbing ignorantly on the phone with her mates about things she's missed and doesn't understand or believe.

So she does. She stretches a bit, grabs her mobile ( _if he's still here, she'll have to distract herself, no way she can pretend if she's paying attention to him, she'll slip up, give it away, he'll know what she's doing and she can't have that_ ), and heads downstairs. 'Mr. Smith', he introduces himself as, and it takes every ounce of her willpower and self-control ( _more willpower than ever, and for Donna Noble, that's saying something, she always was a willfull and stubborn girl_ ) to feign disinterest and leave the room. Call up one of ( _identical boring blur together do any of them actually have a personality of their own?_ ) her mates, run her gob like the ignorant idiot she used to be.

He leaves. Just as well, she couldn't keep this up forever. The burning is getting worse, and it's only a matter of time... Off the mobile, call to mum that she's going out, ignore whatever she says or asks as the door shuts. She so desperately wants a proper goodbye, wants to kiss her mum and granddad, and tell them they're brilliant and she loves them... but then they'd know. And the Doctor would know, he's sharp enough to pick up on it if they know, if he ever sees them again. And he can't know, he can't ever ever know what's actually about to happen, he can only know what the rest of the world will know.

This won't be the first time she's sacrificed her life for the sake of others. It's almost easier this time, since she knows she won't live anyway. She just has to find a busy enough street, which is going to be hard this time of night, after everything that happened. People are celebrating, near home, in the neighborhood pubs. Not driving around running errands and such.

She's passing down an empty street when she sees him, standing calmly in front of the blue police box she's so used to. His face is different - older, calmer, and there are deep reserves of strength in him now that she doesn't remember being there before. He looks... _similar_ to the Doctor she knew, so much that were he not standing under a streetlamp, she probably would've mistaken him, but he's different, subtly so.

More grown-up, maybe.

"I never _could_ figure out what happened to you, Donna Noble," he says, and his voice is a bit deeper, a bit richer, with a hint of an Irish brogue. "I took you home, and you told your mum you were going out, and then you disappeared entirely. Not a trace of you once you turned that corner back there." She stops walking as she comes even with him, though it's starting to take so much effort to stay standing that she's not sure if she should.

"Why didn't you come here when you heard?" she asks, her voice wobbling a bit.

"Because right now, a previous version of me is parked only two blocks away," he says with a shrug. "The timeline's very fragile right now, I was too scared I'd muck things up by being so close to myself."

"What changed?"

"I put the clues together. Clues from... oh, all over the universe." He smiles at her with a fondness deeper than she's used to from him. "And eventually, I realized."

"Realized?" ( _too many probabilities as to what he realized, and her mind's working overtime, and god, she's gonna burn_ )

"That it was me. I was the reason you disappeared."

She's trying to focus, trying to keep paying attention to him, but it's too much, it hurts, and she's crying from it all. She hardly notices when her legs give out, just that she's suddenly in his arms ( _strong and warm and he smells like nutmeg and ozone and oil and it's the most beautiful smell in the world because it's almost like home_ ) and he's carrying her into the TARDIS.

"I don't want to die," she whispers, frightened, and he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"I won't let you," he replies. "You're not meant to." He keeps speaking, his voice calm and reassuring, but she can't bring the words into focus. She thinks she catches love, and forever ( _and what kind of love and forever is he promising her, if he even is_ ), but she can't be certain. It doesn't matter. It's over, she knows that beyond any doubt.

The world erupts into golden fire, and everything changes.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is probably one of the best fics I've written. Which isn't saying much, but 7 years later (has it really been almost 7 years? It feels more like 3 at the most) I am still rather proud of this.
> 
> A few people who did reviews of the 2008 CoT nominees said lovely lovely things about this fic, and I will always be grateful for that. Specifically LJ user azriona - I will always remember them for the lovely things they said, and they alone made me glad to have posted this fic.


End file.
